Maxi went to the vet for the first time today and passed all the tests and prodding’s with grace and dignity….Extremely well behaved for a cat! The shots have hit her now and all she wants to do is sleep. As I sit here and watch her sleep (I need a life…I know!) I wonder how she interpreted the day? I brought her home just over four months ago in a very strong cardboard box, then after her having lived in this apartment for the duration she is put back in the same box and removed from a world she calls home….Safe, fun, food…All free! In essence all the things she experienced in her first transport were reversed, maybe she thought the visit was over and she was returning to where I picked her up but instead, it’s worse…She’s at “THE VET!” She’d been good in the car, no yowling but she wanted out of the box, so I opened it up. She crawled onto the front seat eyes WIDE open, all senses desperately trying to get a handle on a total information overload. Most cats I’ve owned/ been a slave to make a rapid dive under the seat then emit blood curdling yowls as their claws fuse with the carpet. Maxi, though clearly on edge, soaked in what she could and just let the rest happen but not once did she let go to panic. The wisdom to take her from the car into the vets sans the box I can’t explain…Maybe I didn’t want my cat seen in a large cat litter box, which is what it was, or maybe I just thought she had the need to see where she was. The wisdom was wrong and as I removed her from the car she armed the claws, grabbing at every part of me she could reach triggered by a healthy instinct to survive in a world she’d had no time to investigate. Once inside the facility, I placed Maxi on the counter before the receptionist.
“Don’t you have a box or something for her?”…This is the point where I saw clearly how and why my thinking was very wrong! The box, however degrading I imagined it was, to her was like a portable cave that allowed Maxi some sense of security in a world that changed all too rapidly.
“I have a box, it’s in the car”
The receptionist agreed to hold on to Maxi while I retrieved the box.
With Maxi back in the box and all the relevant information exchanged, we we’re directed to the waiting area. I placed the box on the floor, top open allowing Maxi to peek every now and then until she saw an over excited standard poodle with a haircut suggesting he’d just left the “Edward Scissorhands” set, then it was the very low in the cave profile for my little cat. Once inside the examination room and after a bit of a chinwag between the Dr. and I regarding all Maxi’s particulars as I understand them, the moment of the needle arrived. That was the only time Maxi yowled a bit and put up a fuss. I understood…Even though I don’t yowl at put up a fuss when I get a shot, it’s really only to save face…Believe me, I want to yowl and put up a fuss!! Anyway….Eleven hours later, the drugs [sic] have made for one bagged little cat and I wonder where I fit in to the days events as interpreted by my furry companion, did I go a little lower on her scale of trust for this one? Will she resist with vigor the event three weeks from now when she goes back to get spayed?
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